While Forensics examined the apartment and the Burglary detectives peeled off to canvass residents, Nikki went downstairs to talk with the only eyewitness, the night-?shift doorman.
Henry was waiting quietly with a patrol officer on one of the sofas in the lobby. She sat beside him and asked him if he was all right, and he said yes, like he would have said it no matter how bad he felt. The poor old guy had answered these same questions for the first responders, and then again for the Burglary cops, but he was patient and cooperative with Detective Heat, glad to tell someone his story.
The blackout came during his shift, at about nine-?fifteen. Henry was supposed to get off at midnight, but his relief called in about eleven and said he couldn’t make it on account of the power outage. Nikki asked the man’s name, made a note, and Henry continued. It was mostly quiet at the door because with the elevator out and all the heat, people who were in were staying in, and many of those who were out were stuck someplace. The stairwell and halls were equipped with low-?level emergency lighting, but the building didn’t have a backup generator.
At about three-?thirty in the morning, a big van pulled up out front and he thought it was ConEd, because it was big like one of theirs. Four men in coveralls got out all together and jumped him. He didn’t see any guns, but they had big five-?cell flashlights and one of the men gave him a punch in the solar plexus with his when Henry challenged them. They got him off the street and into the lobby then used plastic zip cords to bind his hands behind his back and hold his feet together. Nikki could still see some flecks of pale gray adhesive on his deep brown skin where they had duct taped his mouth. Then they took his cell phone and carried him into the tiny mail room and closed the door. He couldn’t give very good descriptions because it was dark and they all wore baseball hats. Nikki asked if he heard any names or could pick out anything unusual in their voices, like if they were high, or low, or perhaps had accents. He said no, because he never heard their voices, not one of them ever spoke. Not even a word. Professionals, she thought.
Henry said he heard them all walk out later and take off in the truck. That’s when he struggled to get free and kick at the door. He was bound too tight, so he had to stay like that until the assistant super came in and found him.
“And do you know about what time they left?”
“I couldn’t tell the time, but it felt like it was about fifteen, twenty minutes before the lights came back on.”
She wrote, “Left before end of blackout. 4 A.M., approx.”
“Think a moment. Is it possible you’re confused about these times you’ve given me, Henry?”
“No, Detective. I know it was three-?thirty when they got there because when I saw that truck pull up out front, I checked my watch.”
“Sure, sure. That’s good, very helpful to us. But the part that puzzles me is their time of departure. The blackout ended at four-?fifteen. If you say they left about fifteen minutes before that, that means they were only here a half hour.” He processed what she was saying and then nodded agreement. “Is it possible you fell asleep or were unconscious during that time? Maybe they left later than four A.M.?”
“Oh, believe you me, I was awake the whole time. Trying to think of a way to get out.” The old doorman paused and his eyes began to rim with tears.